"The feeling of hope may be excited most powerfully by novel and unexpected circ.u.mstances. When the mariner has been long toiling in storms and dangers; when the heavens have been covered with darkness, and no information or guidance could be gained from the stars or the sun, the tempest suddenly ceases, the cheering sunbeams break upon him, and he finds himself, unexpectedly, near the haven where he would be--how does his heart exult with hope, and the consciousness of security!

"The pa.s.sions may be excited, also, in an unpleasing manner; the feeling of fear may be powerfully produced by novelty. Suppose, for instance, a youth, who was trained in the ways of tranquillity and enjoyment, with a feeling heart for the sufferings of others, to be brought, all at once, on the field of war and bloodshed. Suppose him pa.s.sing along some narrow defile, where the distant scenes could scarcely affect him, and where he would perceive only a din of discordant sounds. But, on a sudden, he reaches the termination of the pa.s.sage, and all the pomp, and circ.u.mstance, and horror of war, are exhibited before him. Here he beholds rank opposed to rank, in deadly conflict; troops of hors.e.m.e.n butchering each other; forests of deadly weapons gleaming in the sunbeams. Now he listens to the shouts of victors, the cries of the vanquished, the groans of the wounded and dying; to the swelling notes of some musical band; the discordant sounds of the drum; the clashing of arms, and the shrill clamor of trumpets; to the rattling of musketry and the roaring of artillery! How would his heart sink within him at these novel scenes!

"Novelty will also occasion sorrow; as, when a man has been accustomed to independence, and the comforts which wealth, judiciously managed, may produce, and his riches are suddenly swept away, he is reduced from affluence to dependance, from comforts to privations. And when a person has been used to the society of pleasant friends, and these are removed by the hand of death, and the clay-cold body alone remains as the representative of a cheerful and amiable companion, the novelty of this event will occasion heartfelt sorrow.

"When those who have been accustomed to a.s.sociate as faithful friends; or, when a monarch has been surrounded by persons who have pretended feelings of attachment, and evinced much hypocritical fidelity, and, all at once, the veil of deception has been drawn aside, and an aspect has presented itself of a new and treacherous kind, how powerful have been the feelings of abhorrence and anger!

"And when a person, who has been nurtured in the lap of ease and comfort, and blessed with that best of all blessings (if it be rightly managed), the gift of liberty, is torn from his home, and his family, and his engagements, and carried into a land of slavery, where he is laden with oppressive chains, and insulted by a cruel task-master, with no chance of freedom, nor any ray of happiness, how will his spirits sink, and how will the haggard lineaments of despair be drawn on that countenance which was formed for cheerfulness! Or, suppose a person who was accustomed to a dwelling in some verdant valley, undisturbed by storms or the hazards of the sea; and he was introduced, for the first time, to some of the most aggravated dangers of that boisterous element. Suppose the winds were driving furiously over the ocean, and the huge billows were breaking on the helpless bark, while the darkness of the night was varied only by the gleam of the lightning, which exhibited breakers, and rocks, and over-hanging precipices, how would this new and dangerous condition agitate his mind, and drive him to despair!

"Novelty influences the customs or habits of mankind. On some occasions novel engagements are pleasing; and thus we practise them again, and acquire a habit of performing them. For instance, the citizen who has walked into the country as a novelty, has been pleased with his ramble, and induced to practise it daily. It sometimes occasions a progress in the arts; and thus the first attempts at music, at painting, and at sculpture, have produced a pleasure which has stimulated the person to future and continued labors.

"Sometimes, when the first impression has been rather unpleasing, a custom has been acquired, because, afterward, it had been found pleasing or advantageous. Thus there are many kinds of food, which were originally ungrateful, but are now esteemed delicious. Port wine is nauseous for a child, but it is pleasing to the taste of a person who has been accustomed to it. Smoking, the taking of snuff, and masticating of tobacco, with many other useless and dirty customs, are not produced by the pleasing influence of novelty; but they are rather opposed to it. They arise princ.i.p.ally from the inclination of following injurious examples. In some cases ladies have set their faces against such customs, and have prohibited the practice among those who would gain their esteem: in other cases they have been more lenient, because they have found that a flame of love may burn amid volumes of smoke from cigars or tobacco-pipes. Novelty has occasioned a sensation of unpleasantness, with regard to particular modes of dress; but afterward these fashions have become necessary to our comfort.

"In some instances, the very things which we commonly hate most, become essential to our happiness. When Louis XVI. ascended the throne of France, the doors of some of the dark cells in the Bastile were opened, and the hapless residents were allowed once more to breathe the pure air of heaven. Among the rest, there was one man who had been immured for nearly fifty years in a wretched cell, the area of which was so small as scarcely to allow him room to move about; but, having a vigorous body and a firm mind, he supported himself, until he had almost forgotten the world in which he lived, having had no intercourse with any one but the jailer, who brought him his daily food. When he received the summons to depart, which seemed like a message in a dream, he was astonished; but when he walked through the s.p.a.cious pa.s.sages and the open courts, and saw the heavens extended above him, and the sun shining in his splendor, he was overcome by his feelings. He could badly walk, and badly speak, and he seemed as if he had entered a new world. He went into the city, and found the street in which he had formerly lived, but his friends were dead; there was no living being in the world that knew him, and the poor man wept with sorrow. He was a stranger in a strange country. He went to the minister who had given him his freedom, and said: 'Sir, I can bear to die, but to live in a world unknown and forlorn, the last human being of my race, is insupportable; do, therefore, send me to my cell, that I may finish my days there!' No blessing of Providence will be felt as a benefit, unless it be possessed by a person for whom it is adapted.

"Impressions of a novel and pleasing kind soon lose their attraction; and thus the honors which are acquired by civil and literary eminence, quickly fade away. They are like a beautiful cloud in the heavens, or a dew-drop on a leaf, which glitters and exhibits its beauties for a while, but the fervent sun absorbs both; or, they are like a gaudy flower, which a man fixes in his bosom--very lovely at first, but its attractions soon vanish.

On the other hand, painful occurrences leave but a faint impression.

Although, at first, a man may be bowed down with trouble, yet he will soon regain an erect position and a smiling countenance. A few weeks or months hide most of our sorrows from us; and this is an eminent proof of the wisdom and beneficence of the Deity: for the general amount of human happiness is by this means more equally divided. A state of elation is temporary, and so is a state of depression; and thus, whether a man rises or sinks in worldly possessions and honors, although there will be some difference in the amount of enjoyment, yet there will be much less than we are generally disposed to imagine.

"A taste for novelty affects the engagements of society: it is the source of fashion; it gives labor to the mechanic, to the artist, and to almost every man who obtains his maintenance by industry. And thus there are new buildings, new vehicles, new machines, and new methods of doing most things. There are dresses of various kinds the result of ingenuity and taste. One thing is new and attractive, but it soon becomes stale, and then we look for something novel. Some kinds of food are scarce and costly: these are approved by the great, but they become plentiful and cheap, and then the rich man looks for something rare, some new discovery in the art of cookery. The round of pleasures and amus.e.m.e.nts is continually varying. Formerly the men, and even the ladies, were delighted by exhibitions of combats among savage beasts--lions, elephants, and tigers; they feasted their eyes on the b.l.o.o.d.y combats of human beings with each other, or with bulls and other furious animals. They attended dog-fights, c.o.c.k-fights, and other barbarous diversions. But the taste has become improved; novelty has taken a praiseworthy direction: boxing, wrestling, and other disgraceful exhibitions, are now transferred to the vulgar and disreputable; many innocent amus.e.m.e.nts have been introduced, and these also have been regulated by the universal love of novelty. The same variety has existed in language. A certain style of speech, and certain phrases, are fashionable in the best society; these are gradually introduced among the lower ranks, and then the better cla.s.ses look for something novel. Many words and phrases originally introduced for the purpose of expressing things delicately, become vulgar: terms which were primarily intended as a reproach become a designation of honor, and those once deemed honorable become reproachful.

"The love of novelty occasions the great variety of tunes which we possess, and the diversity of musical skill. A newly-constructed instrument, a new or superior mode of performing on it and the last new tune, are objects of universal attraction. The same disposition arises with respect to books. Novelty has occasioned all the variety which the history of literature exhibits, from the bulky folio to the penny pamphlet, and the annual publication to the daily newspaper: it has occasioned, also, in a great degree, the mult.i.tude of opinions which have deluged the world. Something new, as the loungers of Athens demanded, has been the requirement of the public in all ages. If it be new, it will be attractive, and if pleasing or convenient, it will be embraced, and then its strength and consistency will soon be deemed demonstrated: but when the writers on the subject, and the readers of those writings, become cool; when reason takes the place of imagination, then the system will be often discovered to be defective, the vapory fabric will fade away, and some other will obtain its place. We are too frequently going round in our progress, rather than forward. In many respects we are not much farther advanced than the ancients, and yet we ought to be, and should be if we had pursued a direct course.

"But one of the most pleasing sources of novelty is that which the Almighty has given us in the seasons of the year; and this distinctly shows us that the love of novelty is not only natural, but it is allowable and praiseworthy, if it be regulated by reason; for the Great Creator himself indulges us in this respect. And thus we have all the variety of summer and winter, of sultry and frosty days, of clear and cloudy skies; of the budding and blooming of spring, and the richness and luxuriance of autumn; the breaking forth of the sun in the morning, and the setting of that glorious luminary; the light of the stars; the silvery splendor of the moon; the glare of lightnings and meteors, the rolling of thunder, with vapors, rain, hail, and snow.

"The love of novelty is injurious only when it is carried beyond what the Almighty intended; when it does not animate a person to perform his necessary engagements, but carries him away from them; when it makes him restless and wavering. Novelty accompanies man in infancy and in youth; it cheers and exalts him in the changing scenes of manhood; and when we leave this earthly sphere, and the soul bursts forth from its corporeal dwelling, it will fly upward to regions of still greater novelty, and never-failing interest!"

D.

Mr. Walker, in various places of his work, calls the _cerebel_ or cerebellum, "the organ of volition," and, at page 145, he attributes ideas, emotions, and pa.s.sions, to the cerebrum, though he states that acts of the will result from these. Now, if there is any truth established, it is that the _will_ is the result of the simultaneous action of the higher intellectual powers, and supposes attention, reflection, comparison, and judgment, mental operations, which Mr. Walker himself attributes to the cerebrum. Gall has made it very evident, that the _will_ is not the impulse that results from the activity of a single organ, but the concurrent action of many of the higher intellectual faculties--motives must be weighed, compared, and judged, before there can be any will, or determination of mind. The decision resulting from this determination, is called will. We consider it then proved, that there is no particular organ of the will. "Every fundamental faculty," says Dr. Gall, "accompanied by a clear notion of its existence, and by reflection, is intellect or intelligence. Each individual intelligence, therefore, has its proper organ; but reason supposes the concerted action of the higher faculties.

It is the judgment p.r.o.nounced by the higher intellectual faculties. A single one of these, however, could not const.i.tute reason, which is the compliment, the result of the simultaneous action of all the intellectual faculties. It is _reason_ that distinguishes man from the brute; _intellect_ they have in common to a certain degree. There are many intelligent men, but few reasoning ones. Nature produces an intelligent man; a happy organization, cultivated by experience and reflection, forms the reasoning man." Nearly all physiologists deserving of the name, are now united in the opinion that the cerebellum is the organ of amativeness, as well as concerned in the regulation of voluntary motion. "It is impossible," says Dr. Spurzheim, "to unite a greater number of proofs in demonstration of any natural truth than may be presented to determine the function of the cerebellum."--"Mr. Scott," says George Combe, "in an excellent essay on the influence of amativeness on the higher sentiments and intellect, observes that it has been regarded by some individuals, as almost synonymous with pollution; and the notion has been entertained, that it cannot be even approached without defilement. This mistake has originated from attention being directed too exclusively to the abuses of the propensity. Like everything that forms part of the system of nature, it bears the stamp of wisdom and excellence in itself, although liable to abuse. It exerts a quiet but effectual influence in the general intercourse between the s.e.xes, giving rise in each to a sort of kindly interest in all concerns the other. This disposition to mutual kindness between the s.e.xes, does not arise from benevolence or adhesiveness, or any other sentiment or propensity alone; because, if such were its sources, it would have an equal effect in the intercourse of the individuals of each s.e.x among themselves, which it has not. 'In this quiet and un.o.btrusive state of the feeling,' says Mr. Scott, 'there is nothing in the least gross or offensive to the most sensitive delicacy. So far the contrary, that the want of some feeling of this sort is required, wherever it appears, as a very palpable defect, and a most unamiable trait in the character. It softens all the proud, irascible, and antisocial principles of our nature, in everything which regards that s.e.x which is the object of it; and it increases the activity and force of all the kindly and benevolent affections. This explains many facts which appear in the mutual regards of the s.e.xes toward each other. Men are, generally speaking, more generous and kind, more benevolent and charitable, toward women, than they are to men, or than women are to one another.' The abuses of this propensity are the sources of innumerable evils in life; and as the organ and feeling exist, and produce an influence on the mind, independently of external communication, Dr. Spurzheim suggests the propriety of instructing young persons in the consequences of its improper indulgence as preferable to keeping them in a state of ignorance that may provoke a fatal curiosity, compromising in the end their own and their descendants'

bodily and mental const.i.tution."

It may be proper in this place, to point out some of the anatomical differences of the s.e.xes more definitely than has been done by Mr. Walker, as they are intimately connected with the form and contour of the body, and must be understood to appreciate fully the bearing of much that is laid down by our author:--

ANATOMICAL s.e.xUAL DIFFERENCES.

DIGESTIVE SYSTEM.

The stomach is the only portion of the alimentary ca.n.a.l which presents s.e.xual differences. It is larger, shorter, and broader, in the male; smaller, narrower, and longer, in the female. Its muscular coat, like that in the whole alimentary ca.n.a.l, is generally also thinner in the female.

OSSEOUS SYSTEM.

_Ribs._--The ribs of the female are generally straighter than those of the male. The posterior segment unites sooner with the anterior; its curve differs less from that of the last, and disappears sooner in the female; hence, the chest is narrower. The ribs are usually thinner; hence, the edges are sharper. Sometimes, however, this is far from being true. Their length is nearly the same; but according to Mechel, the length of the two upper ribs is proportionally, and when the subject is short, absolutely greater in the female than in the male.

_Clavicle._--The clavicle is generally straighter, and proportionably smaller in the female than in the male. The greater straightness depends particularly on the lesser curve of its external portion, while in man it extends far backward, and then comes forward. The internal anterior half presents nearly the same curve in both s.e.xes. The clavicle of the female is rounder than that of the male; we however find clavicles of females perfectly like those of males, and _vice versa_. Sometimes, of the two clavicles in the same body, one is constructed in the type of the male, and the other in that of the female.

_Pelvis._--The chief points of difference between the male and female skeleton, beside the disparity in the size and the greater smoothness of the bones, lie in the _pelvis_. In the female this is less strong and thick, and contains less osseous matter than that of the male. In the female, the arch of the _pubis_ is much the greatest, and the long diameter of the brim of the pelvis is from side to side; in the male it is from before backward; in the female, the brim is more of the oval shape, in the male more triangular; in the female, the _ilia_ are more distant; the tuberosities of the _ischia_ are also more remote from each other, and from the _os coccygis_, and as these three points are farther apart, the notches between them are consequently wider, and there is of necessity a considerably greater s.p.a.ce between the _os coccygis_ and _pubis_ than in the male. The female _sacrum_ is broader and less curved than in the other s.e.x. The ligamentous cartilage at the symphysis pubis is broader and shorter. In consequence of the cavity of the pelvis being wider in woman, the superior articulations of their thigh bones are farther removed from each other, which circ.u.mstance occasions their peculiarity in walking; they seem to require a greater effort than men to preserve the centre of gravity, when the leg is raised; owing to the greater length of the crural arch, there is less resistance to the pressure of the abdominal viscera; consequently females are more subject to femoral hernia than males. The angle of union of the ossa pubis in the male is from sixty to eighty degrees, whereas, in the female it is ninety degrees. The mean height of the male, at the period of maturity, is about five feet eight and a half inches, and that of the female about five feet five inches; a well-formed pelvis has a circ.u.mference equal to one-fourth of the height of the female.

ORGAN OF VOICE.

The _larynx_ is one of the organs which presents most manifestly the differences of s.e.x. That of the female is usually one third, and sometimes one half smaller than that of the male: all its const.i.tuent cartilages are much thinner; the thyroid cartilage also is even flatter, because its two lateral halves unite at a less acute angle. Hence the reason why the larynx in the male forms at the upper part of the neck a prominence which is not visible in the female. The glottis in the female is much smaller than in the male, and the vocal cords are shorter. These s.e.xual differences do not appear till p.u.b.erty; until then the larynx has precisely the same form in the two s.e.xes, and consequently the voice is nearly the same in both. In eunuchs it is small as in females.

PHYSIOLOGICAL EXPLANATION OF THE BEAUTY OF FORM.

A very ingenious Physiological explanation of the beauty of form, has been suggested by Professor B. T. Joslin, of the University of the city of New York, which is published in the Transactions of the New York State Medical Society for 1836. As this theory is characterized by great originality and genius, and but little known, we shall present our readers with some extracts from the Essay, calculated to elucidate the views of the talented author.

Speaking of material objects, not including the human form, Dr. J.

remarks:--

"There is in objects a kind of beauty which is intrinsic and physical, which belongs to them in every a.s.sociation, and whether at rest or in motion; such is the beauty of color, and that of configuration. The contemplation of the beauty of coloring and of form gives physical pleasure, i. e., physical as opposed to mental, but physiological as opposed to physical. Employing physical in its comprehensive sense, I say that this physical pleasure attending vision is of two distinct kinds; 1st, that which depends on the character of the impression on the retina, and consequently on the intensity and nature of the light; and 2dly, that which depends upon the form of the object, and, consequently, on the muscular actions employed in tracing its outlines. As the latter const.i.tutes the proper subject of this essay, I shall dismiss the former with a single remark.

"Some colors are more agreeable than others, but these differ with different eyes, and with the nature of the color to which the eyes have been previously exposed. A bluish green relieves the eye when over-excited with red, and a mild red is agreeable after the protracted action of intense green; and in general, the complementary colors are most agreeable in succession. Again, it is well known, that no kind of light is painful, unless excessively vivid; we are pleased with a mild radiance in objects of every hue, from the whiteness of the moon to the crimson of the setting sun. But is there no other physical property by which these luminaries directly contribute to the gratification of taste? It is true that light, abstractedly from all objects is agreeable, and agreeable on the same principle that sweetness is to the taste, i. e., from the mere character of the nervous impression. But this is a pleasure merely pa.s.sive, and in an active being it is, perhaps, on that account, one grade lower than the gratification afforded by the beauty of form, and is more allied to the gross pleasure of literal taste. Hence, we scarcely employ a figurative expression, in declaring that light is sweet. But the highest degree of physical gratification is not enjoyed by the eye, unless this agreeable excitant proceeds from an object of beautiful form. "Light is sweet," but "it is a pleasant thing for the eyes to behold the sun." What is the source of this additional pleasure which we receive, when light proceeds either by radiation or reflection from regular curvilinear objects?

"I shall offer what I believe to be an original and satisfactory explanation of the beauty of form, on principles purely physiological. It is based on the proposition, that the action of every muscle is attended with a sensation which, is at first agreeable, but which, if the action is continued for a short time with intensity, and without intermission, becomes painful. That there is pleasure attending those varied motions which depend upon the actions of different muscles in succession after intervals of rest in each, we know from our own consciousness as well as from that instinctive propensity to play which we observe in children and young animals. That the prolonged action of a muscle is painful, we may readily convince ourselves by endeavoring to hold the arm for some time at right angles with the erect trunk. With the arm in this position, a pound weight on the hand or even the weight of the arm itself becomes in a few minutes almost insupportable. We presently begin to feel pain in the shoulder and anterior part of the arm, the former from fatigue of those muscles which originate from the scapula and keep the os humeri elevated, and the latter from fatigue of the muscles which originate from the scapula and os humeri, whose muscular fibres are in front of the os humeri and by their contraction elevate the fore-arm in consequence of their tendinous attachment to its bones. Yet a man may labor all day with his arms without this painful sensation; because a muscle requires but a momentary rest, in order to regain that degree of energy which is momentarily lost by action.

"None but an anatomist can duly appreciate the variety of separate actions, on which depend the motions of a single limb, and the consequently numerous opportunities of rest which the muscles enjoy. To the superficial and unscientific observer, an arm is an arm; it is a single member which may be fatigued by a day's work and recruited by a night's rest. But to the anatomist the arm is a complex object, and its muscular energy is that of its component muscles, each of which may be fatigued by a minute's action and recruited by a minute's repose. It would be easy to extend this farther, and state reasons for believing that the component fasciculi and fibres of an individual muscle act still more transiently, and that their momentary and successive actions const.i.tute the action of a single muscle.

"But waiving this refinement, it will be sufficient for our purpose to consider a single muscle as having a simple action, an action which cannot be sustained with uniformity a minute of time without actual pain, nor a second of time with positive pleasure. This, however, is not to be understood as an attempt to fix these limits with precision. To express the law in more general terms, as we diminish the duration of a muscle's action we diminish the pain until we arrive at an action whose attendant sensation is neutral, i. e., neither painful nor pleasurable; as soon as we have pa.s.sed that point and have begun to execute motions a little more transient, the attendant sensation becomes positively pleasurable, and the pleasure increases as the separate actions become more transient. It is not necessary to infer that there is attending each action of shorter duration a pleasure exceeding that which attends each action of greater duration; for the more transient actions are, in a given time, more numerous; so that with the same amount of pleasure for each muscular contraction, the amount of pleasurable sensation in a given time--say a second--would exceed the amount attending the less frequent and more prolonged actions in the same period: a greater number of separate impressions become--so to speak--crowded together and condensed, and thus produce a more vivid pleasure. Several contiguous impressions thus conspire to heighten the contemporaneous effect, inasmuch as we are unable to distinguish those impressions which are made at very short intervals on the muscular sense, any more than we are those made at very short intervals on the retina. We have an example of the latter in the familiar experiment of swinging a coal of fire in a circle, and in various optical instruments for combining colors and images.

"The proposition which I have endeavored to establish is, that there is a neutral point to which, if constant action is prolonged, its pleasurable character begins to be reversed; that the vividness of the sensation increases with the distance from this point, being on the one side pleasurable, on the other painful; the more transient the actions are, the more pleasurable; the more prolonged they are, the more painful.

"I am of opinion that this physiological principle is susceptible of interesting applications to a cla.s.s of pleasures, which metaphysicians have regarded as exclusively mental, and dependant upon certain supposed ultimate principles of the const.i.tution of mind, principles not resolvable into others more elementary. As physiology shall advance, it may be expected that many of these imaginary elements will yield to its searching a.n.a.lysis. Whether the writer has been so fortunate as to resolve any of the generally admitted elements of mental taste, the reader will be able to judge from the sequel.

As preparatory to the consideration of the beauty of form, it will be necessary to give an explanation of the _gracefulness of motion_. Although this has been vaguely and in part referred to ease of execution, yet, the physiological principle on which ease of execution depends, not having been clearly understood and distinctly stated, the gracefulness of _all_ motions could not be referred to their true source. Thus, writers on taste have been under the necessity of admitting, as a distinct and independent source of gracefulness, the _curvilinear direction_ of motions, and have been able to generalize this fact no farther than by referring it to the beauty of curved forms, which beauty was considered an _ultimate_ fact. In applying the principles above developed, to the explanation of the pleasure or pain attending the contemplation of particular motions, we shall defer for the present the investigation of the intrinsic beauty of curved motions, which is the same as that of curved lines, and a.s.sume that in general those motions which are physically pleasurable to the agent are agreeable to the observer. The pleasure or pain of the agent will engage the sympathy of the observer; for he a.s.sociates the observed action with his own experience. To make a single application, suppose a public speaker extend his arm horizontally and move it slowly in a horizontal position, through one third of a circle. This motion would not appear graceful. That it would not be performed with perfect ease, any one might prove by experiment. The princ.i.p.al difficulty is in preserving for a long time the horizontal position."

"In the ordinary state of the muscular system, and within certain limits, the motion of the eye in any direction is pleasurable. Whenever the power of directing the eye is acquired, the tracing of a line will, to a certain extent and for a certain time, afford some degree of positive pleasure; in other words, any short line will possess some degree of positive beauty, and the infant becomes conscious of an emotion of which he was previously ignorant--the emotion of beauty of form. A point awakens no such emotion; it never will; it can possess no beauty. It must be recollected, that this has been restricted to minute points of inappreciable form. Circular dots will be considered under the head of figures. The colorific property of a dot as compared with that of the ground on which it is placed, may afford that kind of ocular pleasure which is foreign to the present inquiry.

"From points as compared with lines, we naturally proceed to _lines as compared with each other_.

"When the head is erect, in examining a _straight horizontal_ line we employ one of the lateral recti; if the line be vertical we employ the rectus inferior or superior. In either case, but one muscle acts, and that continuously. The muscle is not relieved, and its action is not attended with the maximum amount of pleasurable sensation. When the vision has been extended along the whole line, if we then immediately proceed to examine it in the opposite direction, the opposite rectus must at one exert a force sufficient to overcome the _momentum_ of the eyeball, and then exert a _continuous_ action. Both these circ.u.mstances are unfavorable to pleasure. If the line is _oblique_, one lateral together with one inferior or one superior muscle is exerted, and the same principles which have been applied to the single muscles, apply to the muscles acting in pairs.

"_The Beauty of Curved Lines._--As from the foregoing a.n.a.lysis of the vision of straight lines in general, it results that they are deficient in the elements of ocular agreeableness, in other words, of beauty; little more need be said of regular and gentle curves, than that the survey of them is not attended with the abovementioned disadvantages. In viewing a regular curve, no muscle of the eyeball acts continuously and uniformly, but enjoys partial relief by remissions, or total relief by intermissions of its action; and the regularity of these remissions and intermissions, as well as the equal distribution of exercise, is promoted by the regularity of the curve. Acting in succession, the muscles afford mutual relief after actions of such short duration and variable intensity, as to afford positive pleasure; and in this _muscular pleasure_ of the eye consists the _beauty of configuration_.

"The successive and accurate survey of distant points is not, however, invariably requisite to a degree of similar pleasure, in viewing a figure of such small angular extent as to be instantly recognised by one location of its image, as a.n.a.logous to a larger one whose survey has directly afforded muscular pleasure. Although I thus recognise the influence of a.s.sociation, the facts of this very case afford an interesting confirmation of the physiological theory; for a large circle or ellipse is more beautiful than one of diminutive size. The beauty of the one is original, its influence is direct; the beauty of the other is in part borrowed, and this part is weakened by reflection. Or, to express it more literally, the one excites a pleasurable sensation, the other suggests a similar idea; the one affords a _perception_, the other a _conception_, of beauty. Such, even with similar color and brilliancy, would be the difference between the full moon and a circular dot () or period; such the difference between a rainbow and a diminutive arc ([Ill.u.s.tration]), a short accent inverted. Here the critic might be inclined to charge us with confounding the beautiful with the sublime. But the fact is, that criticism has constructed the sublime--as it has the beautiful--from heterogeneous materials, one of which is identical with one of the elements of beauty, and should, in a physiological arrangement, be referred to the same cla.s.s. In many instances a magnifying instrument will disclose minute irregularities and blemishes; but in every other case, physiology would show, that, within certain limits, to magnify a beautiful _object_ is to _magnify beauty_.

"The foregoing statements of general principles preclude the necessity of minute details in relation to particular curves. I shall at present consider those which do not return into themselves, so as to const.i.tute the outlines of figures in the geometrical sense. Let us first select a semi-circ.u.mference, for example, that of a rainbow of maximum dimensions.

In tracing it once, we employ three out of the four muscles. They are brought into action successively and rapidly, but not abruptly. All these circ.u.mstances are favorable to pleasure. Yet they are not conducive to it in the highest possible degree; for each muscle acts only once unless the examination be repeated; and in case of its repet.i.tion, the momentum of the eyeball is destroyed in stopping and reversing its motion. The waving line, as Hogarth's line of beauty, obviates the first difficulty. This ensures not only the successive action of different muscles, but a repet.i.tion of action in the same. If the line forms a number of equal waves, these repet.i.tions will be proportional to the number of waves, and will alternately and totally relieve, at least two muscles, and allow, in the action of a third, regular remissions of intensity at equal intervals.

We have proved then, that on this physiological theory, a semi-circ.u.mference possesses more of the elements of beauty than any straight line, and a regular-waved line more than either. These results are conformable to experience. If there is any difficulty in admitting this, it will vanish on comparing the ocular with other muscles.

"Let us select a joint, which, in its spherical form, and the circular arrangement of its muscles, is a.n.a.logous to the eye; for example, the shoulder joint. I think it will be uniformly found, that in the use of this joint, the curves most readily traced, are those of gentle and nearly equal curvature, and being such as are most easily traced by the eye, they would appear more beautiful than those drawn by the fingers with the same education. For example, let a man, without bending his wrist or elbow, draw various lines with a light stick or cane on the surface of snow: the lines most easily drawn (or most easily traced if already drawn), will be curves of considerable beauty, and nearly equal curvature; such as waved lines and spirals and looped curves. Circles and ellipses would also be among the figures with most facility and precision traced, and especially in cases of repeated tracing; but we are not at present considering figures in the proper geometrical sense of the term. In writing letters by the above method, a succession of 'e's, would be more readily drawn than a succession of 'i's, or a zigzag line with acute angles.

"To inst.i.tute a fair comparison between terminated lines and figures, the component lines of the figures should be as beautiful as the terminated lines with which they are compared. With this precaution, physiology will conduct to the conclusion, that figures are more beautiful than terminated lines. For the survey of any figure requires the successive action of all these ocular muscles, and a repeated survey requires no reversal of the motion.